Memories

The Anger of Grief

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She lay on the other side of the bed, a huge rift between them that Logan didn't know how to bridge. It could have been X-Force, but he didn't think it was that. No, he thought it was Kurt, who she tried to pretend had never existed at all. He'd saved the cardboard box of all the photos and presents she had tried to throw out. She didn't even wear the little silver cross anymore. That had been when he realised how angry she was. He'd been sorting out the box, fixing up the little cat-shaped letter holder Kurt had given her on her twenty-third, when he's found the cross, the chain tangled and broken. She hadn't even bothered to unclip it, merely ripped it off her neck and thrown it into the box of memories.

He'd taken it to get fixed and now carried it around with him. Not just as a reminder of Kurt, because he didn't need one of those, but as a reminder of how Tora used to be, before she seemed so angry and hurt, alone but for that stupid cat. She wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't tell him what was wrong, what she needed.

And now she lay curled up on the other side of the bed, refusing to move closer, lying perfectly still, a living statue, unable to let her emotions out. She wouldn't even say Kurt's name. He would have thought she hated Kurt, if it hadn't been for the long conversation with Xixy.

First they are filled with a need for revenge. They will do whatever they can to kill the person who killed their Makrrrst and then they go into second-stage Mrrlsta. They hate the person who left them so broken. Hope to Dragon that she remains in that stage for a long time. For after anger comes acceptance. And with acceptance comes death.

He wasn't certain what he wanted. Tora to remain in this angry haze, or for her to finally deal with her grief and let Kurt go. But she wouldn't really let him go, would she? She would go to him, to find the missing piece of her soul. He had lost his best friend, and his wife, in one fell swoop.

He'd always known Kurt and Tora were close. They would exchange glances after training and both burst out laughing; they would talk with their eyes, never once saying a word; they would sit together after a difficult mission, hands resting together as they bowed their heads together. He didn't even understand at times exactly what made them so alike. No. He did know.

They had both suffered. Kurt had been rejected by his mother at birth, grown up a freak. Tora had been a monster, an animal. Kurt lived with the stigma of his parents. Tora lived with waking nightmares and was unable to unsheathe her claws without seeing what had been done to her. Kurt had been accepted and then the very people he trusted had shut him in a cage, shown him off as a freak. Tora had a friend who she accidentally sent to her death.

They both were humorous. Kurt was all smiles and jokes and joyful smiles; a happy, friendly, jokeful man, who made out that life was a circus, that clowning around would make life so much more bearable. He was right. And then there was Tora's dark humour, her sarcasm and dry wit, so perfect for in battle, where a quick comeback could often be as good as a well-thrown punch. He'd walked in once on one of their quick-fire punning matches, where they would return witticisms back and forth, laughing and teasing, Kurt relying on wordplay, Tora using tone and infliction to make her comments humorous, pushing back his joking remarks with yawns and 'is that the best you can do?'s.

They were both selfless. Kurt was dead. Joyful, peaceful Kurt was dead because he gave his life. But he'd given so much before that. Kind words, understanding, that steady arm, the voice of reason. Tora had given up more than Logan had realised. He saw it when Laura had opened her hand to reveal a tightly folded slip of paper. On it were a list of names. Names and dates and numbers and proof. Tora had given Laura everything she could every want to strike back at Weapon X, the people who had made her kill her own mother. And when he asked her how she had gained the information, she had just turned her head away and told him that he wouldn't approve. What could she do that was more terrible than he did on an almost daily basis? And then he realised. She had gone against all her morals, her code. She had sold her own secrets, sold her own blood, all to help Laura. Tora had sold herself for a day, for a maniac doctor to dissect and cackle over, to get that list of names.

They were both so bright, despite the darkness. If you couldn't see Tora with the kids, she'd be in the chapel, talking animatedly with Kurt, laughing, joking, teasing each other. Or maybe they'd be debating the finer points of their faith, comparing differences, questioning at times.

They were both dead. Kurt was gone, his ashes scattered on the wind. Tora might not be dead in body but her heart had gone out of it. Only Jamie, Eva, Curt and Laura could ever make her smile, make her laugh, make the old Tora come back. And then she'd slip away again, like an iceberg on the sea.

And that was why he was too afraid to reach out and touch her. He was afraid her skin would be icy cold, pale with death. Her spark had gone.

"Didn't she end up going insane and trying to kill everyone?"

"Yes, but it took a while. She held on so long for the anger stage."

She stepped into the hub and everyone stopped. She wasn't wearing her normal uniform.

Until yesterday, she had long silver boots and gloves and a bright blue long-sleeved uniform, with a silver tied belt and a dragon emblazoned on her chest, a silver version of her Tigress headdress on her face. The headdress was all that remained.

Her boots were dark blue, almost the grey of a stormy sea. There were no sleeves on this new uniform, which was a darker blue than her previous one. The gloves, the same dark blue as the boots, were small and folded over at the wrist. Silver bindings wrapped up until her elbow. And there was a large dragon on her chest and stomach, the head at the base of her neck, the tail curling down to her navel, the wings sweeping round to cover her arms. It was darker than her previous uniform, more aggressive. From someone who seemed pretty fixed in her last uniform, sometimes adding a black triangle or changing the size of the dragon, it was a huge departure. Finally Scott spoke up.

"What's with the new costume?"

Tora turned around, eyes fixing sharply on his glasses and Scott suddenly realised she was one of very few people who acted as if there were actually eyes behind the glasses, not just weapons.

"I am not who I was. I wanted to reflect that. I am not the woman I used to be, so why should I dress the same?"

She walked over to the globe linked to Cerebra.

"Where do you want me Scott? Vancouver? Tokyo with Logan? Mexico City? Nigeria? Or the Ukraine?"

"No Tora. I want you to stay here. I want you to protect Utopia."

"What?"

"Storm's in Nigeria, Angel and Bobby are already in Vancouver, I've sent out Bets and Reyes to Mexico, Logan's got Tokyo covered and the Light in Europe is moving fast. I've sent out a lot of the big guns and I want you here, to protect the non-combatants."

"Rogue?"

"Rogue is sticking close to Hope and she's off active roster."

"Why?"

"Because she put Hope in danger. I was going to take you off, but Emma dissuaded me because we rely on you a bit too much. We're working on a new strategy. Like you said, we need to be ready if you've gone Logan or something."

Tora nodded curtly, her eyes flashing.

"Is that everything?"

"Yes."

She walked out, head down.

"And that was when they stopped relying on her, because she was falling."

"Is it just me, or does that look like the red and gold costume I once wore?"

"That was what it was based on."

"Ahh. That explains it."

A.N. Tora's new uniform is a personification of the new, darker period she's about to go through. I always found Jean's X-Men Revolution uniform quite aggressive compared to her normal Phoenix costume and that's what I based this costume on. Tora's about to change quite drastically.